Windy Songs in Minor Keys
by LilinasWrites
Summary: Kurt's senior year is going beautifully. He has his boyfriend at McKinley and they've taken their private relationship to new levels. But a chance encounter at Breadstix makes him realize that he and Blaine might not be as "out" as he'd like to think they are. The songs Blaine sings are Marc Cohn's Walking in Memphis, George Harrison's I Live For You & Mary Karlzen's Stay Forever.
1. Chapter One

"That's crazy! He got sacked three times today. He's completely useless and there's no way they're playing him first string next week."

"And you think Patterson's any better? Give me a break! He can't throw more than ten yards without an interception!"

"Well how do they expect him to get any practice under pressure if they never take a chance and put him in? At least he knows how to throw the ball! Calhoun just stands there like he thinks the entire defensive line's going to fall into a hole or something."

"That's not fair! It's not the quarterback's fault if the rest of the offense can't . . ."

Kurt twirled another forkful of chicken fettuccine and shot Rachel a _here we go again_ smile. She rolled her eyes back at him in a way that said _boys!_ as eloquently as if she'd spoken it aloud.

Kurt loved double-dating with Rachel and Finn. Actually, he'd probably have loved double-dating with anyone – he was pretty sure an evening with Mike and Tina would involve less talk about football and more about dancing – but his brother and his best friend seemed to be the couple that presented themselves most often, and Kurt was fine with that. Rachel was one of the few people that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was completely, one hundred percent unfazed by anything he and Blaine might do in front of her. And Finn had gotten so used to seeing them wrapped around each other on various surfaces at home that he rarely batted an eye. But honestly, at moments like this, Kurt couldn't have cared less if Finn _had_ batted an eye. Silly things like sports talk and homophobia were the farthest things from his mind with Blaine sitting right next to him, knee pressed against his under the table, giving Kurt a perfect view of his profile as he argued some incredibly pointless point with Finn.

Breadstix at six o'clock on a Sunday was one of the last places Kurt and Blaine would have gone alone. All those early-bird seniors and parents hurrying through dinner to get the kids home and in bed on time, all watching with their sharp Midwestern eyes for anything inappropriate or untoward; they would have zeroed in on Kurt and Blaine in a nanosecond. Even when they sat primly on opposite sides of a booth and carefully kept their hands from straying across the midline of the table into each other's territory. The Sunday dinner crowd was definitely high on their "avoid at all costs" list. Who knew being with a straight couple would turn out to be the most amazing sort of camouflage? It gave them some kind of special immunity – like they were made unremarkable by association with something as ordinary as two teenage (definitely non-gay) lovebirds. Of course they had to sit side-by-side, so that Finn and Rachel could be together. Not a single eye turned in their direction, not even when their shoulders bumped as Blaine bounced in his seat with the intensity of his argument with Finn.

And Kurt was most definitely not above taking advantage of their near invisibility. Their decision to venture into uncharted southern territory gave them so many new places to explore and Kurt was endlessly fascinated by the reactions this or that new touch could wring out of Blaine. So he didn't even think twice about slipping his free hand under the table and settling it just above Blaine's knee.

"If they'd just give him a couple of games to get . . . to get it . . . I mean, when the . . . the . . ."

The way Blaine's words stuttered and piled up on each other as Kurt's fingers teased along the inseam of his jeans was so new and exciting that Kurt felt a little drunk on it. He loved how daring it felt to sit here in front of all these clueless diners and touch Blaine so intimately. He loved the flush that crept up from the collar of Blaine's red plaid button-down (although it completely clashed with the fabric – he'd have to remember to get Blaine to wear blue the next time he planned to make him blush), and he especially loved the bemused look Rachel gave him when Blaine had to try three times before he could get the word "quarterback" to come out of his mouth. He shrugged at her, threw Blaine a perfectly innocent quizzical look, and took his hand away to cut an overlarge chunk of chicken. Blaine abandoned conversation altogether and did his best to glare at Kurt. He failed, of course. Blaine was about as forbidding as a baby seal. Kurt just smiled at him, the kind of smile that promised more of the same as soon as they were alone.

Yep. He really loved double-dating.

Finn took advantage of the lull in the football argument to grab the dessert menu. "Share a piece of cheesecake with me?" he asked Rachel.

She sighed. "It has 'cheese' in the name, honey. It's a cake made of cheese. By definition, not vegan. You can share it with Kurt."

"He'll eat all of it!"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting my own piece of cheesecake," Kurt said. "And whining is not attractive, Finn."

"I'll share it with you. Kurt never lets me have any of his." Blaine pulled down the corners of his mouth, still trying to look ferocious.

"Neither is pouting, Blaine. You two keep that up and nobody at this table's going to get to second base tonight." As he spoke Kurt settled his hand back on Blaine's thigh, much higher this time. Just to make sure he knew that was a totally empty threat.

"Thank you, Blaine. What flavor would you like?" Finn said chivalrously.

"I'm flexible. You choose," Blaine said. Kurt thought his attempt at chivalry would have been much more convincing if his voice hadn't cracked.

Finn smiled at Blaine and went back to perusing the menu. Rachel also gave Blaine a grateful smile and pushed herself out of her seat.

"There, you're all set," she said to Finn. "I'm going to the little girls' room. Order me a cappuccino when the waitress comes?"

"Soy? With nutmeg? And a cinnamon stick?" Finn had obviously taken Kurt's threat to heart and was trying to improve his chances. And it worked. Rachel beamed at him.

"Best boyfriend ever!" She leaned down and pecked him on the lips, then spun around and made for the bathrooms with a little extra bounce in her step. Kurt couldn't help smiling after her. It made him happy to see his friends happy when he was happy too. Happy was good. Life was really pretty much all-around perfect. As he watched her disappear down the little corridor toward the restrooms, he was sure he could feel Blaine squirm a little under his hand in just the way he usually did when he was trying to surreptitiously adjust an inconvenient erection.

Oh yeah. Perfect.

Then he saw her.

The woman was sitting in the booth behind Finn and Rachel, facing him, and she'd been watching too, watching Rachel bounce away; a fond-looking smile lingered on her face when her gaze met Kurt's over the now-empty space between them. She started when she noticed him noticing her, and her face went pink, like she was embarrassed to have been caught staring. But then she smiled again, a little sheepishly, and rolled her eyes in a way that very eloquently said, _Ah, young love._

Kurt rolled his eyes back, with his own fond smile, and squeezed Blaine's thigh, happy to have friends who were in love, to be in love himself, to be part of their neighbor's appreciation of how sweet and wonderful it all was.

"I am so making you pay for this later." Blaine leaned close enough to whisper it in Kurt's ear – he felt lips brush the sensitive skin there – but the lady in the other booth still held his gaze so he had a perfect view as her eyebrows came together the tiniest bit. It seemed to hit her in slow motion; he could see understanding dawn in her face but what came after that understanding he didn't know.

"Hey! I was reading that!" Finn protested when Kurt snatched the dessert menu and held it like a shield between himself and whatever reaction the woman in the other booth was having.

"Don't pretend you don't know it by heart," he muttered.

"Don't pretend _you_ don't know it by heart!"

A tiny noise from Blaine made Kurt realize that his fingers had gone tight on his thigh. He forced himself relax his death grip and put his hand back on top of the table where it belonged, staring with complete concentration at the list of cheesecake flavors that of course he'd memorized years ago. He didn't put it down until Rachel came back and blocked his view for good.

* * *

><p>Kurt was quiet on the ride back to his house. He wasn't quite sure what was wrong, only that there was a squirmy feeling inside him that was distracting his attention from the things he usually loved about watching Blaine drive. His hands (those hands – strong yet still so beautiful) on the steering wheel, carefully placed at ten and two, the way the light from street lamps and oncoming cars slid sinuous shadows across his face as they moved. He usually loved the nights that Blaine drove. He could lose himself in anticipation of the way those fingers would soon be touching him (always brushing his skin with exquisite gentleness even as they trembled with the need for more) and the, by now familiar expression on Blaine's face when they reached for each other. Before Blaine, Kurt had never imagined in his wildest dreams anyone looking at him that way. It was always the same, that first look. A kind of desperate relief mixed with need mixed with absolute awe. It took Kurt's breath away every single time.<p>

But tonight, even the thought of Blaine's own special brand of heart eyes couldn't banish the image of those other eyes. And it wasn't her surprise that stayed with him. It was the little eye roll. The smiling approval of Finn and Rachel's expression of love. As they pulled into the driveway and Blaine put the car into park, killed the engine, and turned that incredible look in his direction, Kurt still could see _her_ lurking alongside Blaine's beautiful face.

"I have been waiting for this all day," Blaine murmured, sliding his fingers (and there was that tremble) behind the back of Kurt's neck and pulling him oh-so-gently closer, until finally their mouths were touching for the first time that night.

When Blaine was leading the way, the kisses started out soft, reverent, Blaine worshipping Kurt's mouth and savoring every little point of contact. Kurt usually loved feeling him try so hard to hold back the need to press and pull and deepen. His fingers were always the first to give in. They would tighten against Kurt's skin, feeling their way through the barriers of clothing, then his body would press forward more and more avidly across the console between them, but his lips always stayed gentle, trembling tender, until the last possible moment.

Tonight, as they breathed into each other's mouths and Kurt tried so hard to be firm with the woman who just kept staring at him, it seemed like the tipping point came for Blaine even faster than usual. Kurt could feel him fall over that edge, the hunger in his body moving quickly to his lips, which opened in an invitation that Kurt automatically accepted. He'd had no idea, before Blaine, that you could love someone's tongue, that the taste and feel of it could grip you around the heart as much as a whispered _I love you_, but with Blaine he'd learned about so many things he'd never thought were possible.

Blaine's tongue was insistent, even desperate, and he trailed it along Kurt's bottom lip, down to dip into the cleft in his chin, then kissed his way along Kurt's jaw, the curve of his neck, nuzzling in the hollow of his ear. "You were so evil in the restaurant. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to kiss you right there? God, it was hot." Blaine's breath was warm and shuddery and tickled Kurt's ear in a way that was usually guaranteed to have the south-of-the equator population standing up in appreciation. On a normal night, that is, when his words weren't conjuring back the face of a certain smiling woman.

Blaine, being Blaine, sensed it immediately and pulled back to examine Kurt's face in the dim light. "Hey. What's wrong?"

Kurt shook his head, as much to clear it as to reassure Blaine. "Nothing. I'm fine. Don't stop . . ." He slid his arms around Blaine's neck and pulled him back. Blaine's kisses were all he needed. They'd been so close to banishing the woman completely. Just a few more . . .

Blaine pulled away again. "Okay, something's up. Don't tell me you're fine. What's going on?"

Kurt didn't want to talk. He wanted to make out with his boyfriend until his dad inevitably flashed the porch lights, then run up to his room and wait for Blaine to get home and call him so they could finish what they'd started via phone. But the damned woman from Breadstix was still there, in his head, trying to tell him something he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Plus Blaine was still staring, waiting for an answer, and Kurt finally surrendered and plopped back in his seat.

"What are we doing?"

Blaine looked puzzled, but he answered Kurt's question anyhow, with only a tiny hint of exasperation at the obvious stupidity of it. "Making out? At least that's what I –"

"In your car, Blaine. In my driveway."

Blaine turned to stare out the window and it was almost comical – as if he was only just discovering where they were. "Yeah –"

"We always make out in the car. If we're not in our rooms, we're in the car."

"Well, we're teenagers. Aren't we like legally obligated to make out in cars?"

Kurt huffed a little, frustrated breath. He knew it was unfair to expect Blaine to be taking him seriously. He thought about just letting it go, pulling Blaine close again and doing things to his body that were guaranteed to make them both forget the odd mood Kurt was in. But he knew the damage was done. And Blaine was giving him that open, _I'm listening_ look that always managed to make Kurt feel even worse if he tried to ignore it. So he forged ahead, hating himself a little for doing so.

"Did you see what Rachel did right before she went to the bathroom?" he asked. "In the restaurant?"

Blaine wasn't expecting that; his eyebrows scrunched together and he looked at Kurt like he might be going a little crazy. But because he was Blaine, who always tried to put his own issues aside if Kurt needed him, he didn't demand to know what the hell Rachel going to the bathroom had to do with them making out in his car. He swallowed his confusion and tried to follow Kurt's train of thought. "Um, she asked Finn to get her a coffee?"

Kurt shook his head. "After that."

Blaine thought, staring at the window behind Kurt like he was trying to project images from their dinner there. But finally he gave up and shrugged.

"She kissed him," Kurt said. "Right there. Just, in front of everyone, bent over and kissed him."

Blaine understood immediately, and his face softened into a look that Kurt hated. The sympathetic look. The one that Kurt had a hard time distinguishing from pity. "Kurt –"

"And then she smiled at me."

"What – Rachel?"

"No. There was this lady, sitting behind her, and she smiled at me."

It was Blaine's turn to shake his head. "I don't –"

"She _smiled_ at me. Like, oh, your friends are so disgustingly cute, that kind of smile. And I was just sitting there, smiling back at her, with my hand about three centimeters from your dick."

"That I remember," Blaine said.

"And I thought, what if she knew? What if she knew my hand was on your leg? Or what if you'd kissed me like Rachel did with Finn? Would she still have been smiling? Would she have thought _we_ were cute?"

Blaine reached for Kurt's hand and gently spread out the fingers he hadn't realized he'd clenched into a fist. "You know you can't compare –"

"But what if she would have?" Kurt slid his fingers in between Blaine's and clutched at his hand. "That's what I keep thinking. What if she would have been perfectly okay? We'll never know. What if she's not sure? If she's on the fence and seeing us, just seeing something simple like that, what if it was the thing that made her realize –"

"Kurt. You know you can't control what people think."

"But that's my point! We can't control what people think. So why are we hiding?"

"Hiding?" The shock in Blaine's eyes told Kurt he was only now starting to understand that this might be something serious. "We're not hiding, Kurt. We're completely out."

"We're hiding," Kurt insisted. And as much as he hated himself for crapping on their already limited time alone together, the truth of what he was saying was so clear that he knew he couldn't keep it inside. "We don't touch each other. Not where people can see. We kiss in the car, in the driveway. I sat there in Breadstix, and I was so grateful that we were with Finn and Rachel because we could actually sit next to each other. Just sit in a booth, side by side. It was pathetic."

"We're not hiding," Blaine repeated. "We're being safe. There's a difference."

"Really? Because I'm not seeing it at the moment."

Blaine dropped Kurt's hand and gripped the steering wheel again, hands still perfectly anchored at ten and two. He took a long deep breath, sighed it out, and Kurt hated himself even more for dropping this bomb that must have seemed completely out of the blue to Blaine.

"You're right, okay," Blaine said, staring at the wheel. "We don't know how people will react. Maybe nine out of ten people would smile and clap and throw us a parade." He turned back to Kurt, eyes so full of hurt and confusion and fear that Kurt felt hot tears start in his own. "But what about that one? That one who doesn't? Do you really want to risk that? Because the bad, is really freaking bad, Kurt. And it could be way more than one. Most of Lima has never had to deal with people like us."

And as much as Kurt hated hurting Blaine, he hated that phrase more. "People like us?"

"Okay, you know I didn't mean –"

"What about school?" Kurt interrupted.

Blaine was again taken aback by Kurt's abrupt change of subject. "What?"

"School, Blaine. Everyone at McKinley knows. They know we're together. We danced at prom in front of everyone. You just said it – we're out. But we don't hold hands like other couples. We never touch at all at school. Why not? Why not when everyone already knows?"

"No. Things are good at school right now," Blaine said, and Kurt could see him struggling to keep up and find the words to negate what Kurt was saying. "Everyone's okay with us. We agreed on this! We don't want to upset that. It doesn't make sense to . . ." he trailed off, apparently at a loss for words, and looked back down at his hands still gripping the steering wheel.

"To flaunt ourselves?"

Blaine recoiled from the words as if he'd been hit. "That isn't what I was going to say."

"That isn't what you _wanted_ to say. But it's what you were going to say because it's the only way to say it. We don't hold hands at school because nobody's beating us up at the moment, so why risk reminding them they have a reason to?"

Blaine's eyes darted around the interior of the car like they were looking for a safe place to land that wasn't Kurt or his own hands. But he eventually gave up and looked up at Kurt with a sigh. "Is that so wrong? To want to just stay safe?"

"I didn't think so before. But it doesn't feel right to me now."

"Because of one woman in Breadstix who smiled at you?" Blaine huffed a little, miserable laugh.

"Because of one woman who made me think." Kurt touched Blaine's arm with tentative fingers. The muscles under his shirt were hard and tight. "Why can't we have those things too? What if people aren't as against us as we think they are? What if things are changing? We'll never know if we don't try. Maybe the kids at school wouldn't care at all."

"I think that's pretty much exactly what you said last year before prom."

That _hurt_, and it must have shown on Kurt's face because Blaine grabbed his hand again in both his own, and pressed it to his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kurt. Maybe you're right. Maybe people would be okay with it. Maybe we should be braver. But what if you're wrong? All it takes is one idiot to put somebody in the hospital, or worse."

Kurt could see Blaine's fear and he understood it. He really did. He shared it on so many levels. But hiding behind that menu made him realize that he was tired of letting fear rule his actions. He pulled their joined hands away from where Blaine clutched them to his chest and held them up between their bodies. "Because of this," he said quietly. "Because this," he squeezed harder around Blaine's fingers, "is so wrong and so . . . so perverted –"

"No. Kurt!"

"So _perverted_ that people have a right to be protected from it. From us holding hands."

"Those are their words."

"But we make them right." Kurt knew that this was the crux of the problem, what had been teasing at the back of his brain since they left Breadstix. "When we hide; when we don't do what we want to do," Blaine's head shook in violent negation but Kurt pressed on, "what any other couple can do. When you don't kiss me when I bring you flowers –"

"You were the one who pulled away that day!"

"Either way, Blaine. I'm not saying it's just you. But when we do that we make them right. We're agreeing with them. We're giving them what they want."

"No. You're twisting things the wrong way around. We have a right to be safe."

Kurt nodded. "We do. You're right, we do. But when we don't do things we want to do in order to be safe, we still make them right. We make it our problem, not theirs." He took a deep breath and even though it made him want to cry, he said it anyhow. "And I don't think I'm okay with that anymore."

Blaine's eyes went wide. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. I just . . . Kurt Hummel doesn't hide. I never did. No matter how miserable they tried to make me. But now, when I'm happier than I've ever been in my life," he squeezed Blaine's hand, trying to give him what reassurance he could, "I'm hiding. I can't do that. I deserve more. We deserve more."

"Kurt. Please, Kurt it's one year," Blaine said, and his eyes, reflecting the yellow light spilling from the bulb over the garage door, pleaded almost as eloquently as his voice. He leaned in closer, one hand relinquishing Kurt's to touch his face instead, just as gently as he had when they'd pulled up, except now Kurt knew the trembling he could feel wasn't from arousal. "Not even a whole year. You'll graduate and when I come visit you in New York I swear, I swear to you I'll kiss you wherever you want. The middle of Times Square. They can put us up on the freaking Jumbotron and I'll love it. But not here."

"New York doesn't need us on the Jumbotron. We don't make a difference there. But we can here, Blaine."

Breath left Blaine's body in a long, deep sigh and his head dropped. Sensing surrender, Kurt pressed on. "When we come back here in ten years for my reunion, what will gay kids at McKinley say to us? Will they thank us for making a difference? Or will they wonder what the hell good we were?"

"We've already made a difference. We danced at prom in front of everyone."

"We made one big gesture. And then we went right back to acting the way everybody thinks we should act. And I can't do that anymore. I'm tired of always stopping myself. I want more. I want to feel like any other couple."

Blaine pulled away from Kurt completely and stared out the windshield at the garage door. "You want go back to dumpsters and slushies and beatings?"

"Maybe," Kurt said, and he knew he was being stubborn but that didn't make it a lie. "Maybe it's worth it."

Blaine shook his head, still staring out at the night. "You don't know what it's like."

Kurt's mouth dropped open; he had to force it closed before he could speak. "I don't know what it's like?! How can you even say that to me? After Karofsky?"

"You don't. You don't know Kurt. I know you've been hurt and shoved around and humiliated. But that's not nearly the worst thing that can happen."

"It's not a competition, you know! Who's been hurt more? Just because I never ended up in the hospital –"

"This isn't about me!" Blaine turned to him, turned on him, the force of his anger radiating so strongly that Kurt was reminded of his baby seal attempts in the restaurant and had to suppress a hysterical and completely inappropriate desire to giggle. "You don't know what it's like to have to watch someone you care about get hurt, okay? To be terrified and completely helpless while he cries and begs. God, Kurt. And he was just my friend. I didn't love him."

"Blaine –" Kurt reached for Blaine's hand but he pulled it away, curling further in on himself against the driver's side door.

"I still have nightmares about it," he said, and his voice was chillingly quiet in the echo of his outburst. "Except in my dreams, it's you. For some reason you never scream, like he did. Or beg. You're so quiet but I can hear it when they hit you, the thud, the way the air rushes out of your lungs. I'm the one who screams, in my dreams. I scream for you and try to get to you but they're holding me, I can't move, all I can do is watch everything they do to you . . ."

"Blaine." Kurt crowded across the console into Blaine's space, pulling at his shoulders, trying to get him to move closer. Blaine allowed the touch but didn't move at all, he just looked at Kurt with those desperate eyes that made Kurt feel like dirt for not caving in and saying anything that might wipe that look off Blaine's face. But that wasn't who Kurt Hummel was either.

"I can't do it, Kurt. If anything happened to you because of me, I couldn't live with myself."

"But it wouldn't be because of you. You know that. You're not responsible for what assholes decide to do."

"We both know it's not that simple. Maybe it wouldn't be my fault _exactly_, but if we can avoid it? If I could avoid it but I chose not to?" Blaine was still shaking his head but his body loosened enough that Kurt was able to pull him closer and settle what he hoped was a reassuring hand on his chest.

"You're right," he said. "I know you are, but I'm right too. I don't want to do that anymore. I'm tired of choosing safety over happiness. It's wrong. It feels wrong to me."

"An hour ago you were fine," Blaine said. "You said it yourself – you were happy just sitting next to me. I don't get it."

"I wasn't fine. Not really. If I was I wouldn't have had such a huge reaction to that woman. She brought it all into focus for me. She made me realize how much we're compromising."

"It's not compromising to me," Blaine insisted. "It's priorities. Because nothing is more important to me than you. In one piece."

"I get that. But for me it is. It's accepting less. Because we're gay. That's something I told myself I'd never, ever do. You're not wrong to want to be safe, Blaine. But I'm not wrong either."

For a minute neither of them spoke, the tension and awareness of the impasse they'd reached seemed to suck all the air out of the car. Kurt had an overwhelming urge to throw the door open and run out into the yard, run away from Blaine and his beautiful, confused, frightened eyes. But Kurt Hummel didn't run. He certainly didn't run from the one person he loved more than anything else in this world.

Blaine finally broke the silence, with a quiet and unexpectedly calm, "So what do we do now?"

Yes, Kurt thought. That was all he needed – an opening. Blaine willing to work with him. "Well, I was thinking maybe just start slow. At school. Holding hands is good. Little things. Wouldn't want to risk any mass pandemonium on the first day."

He expected a laugh, the little, self-deprecating one that always seemed to mark Blaine's moments of capitulation. But Blaine didn't laugh. Instead, his hand slammed down once, hard, on the steering wheel and he stared a Kurt with a mixture of anger and incredulity. "Did you not hear anything I just said?"

"I heard you. But I thought when you asked –"

"I'm not risking it, Kurt." Blaine pronounced each word precisely, like he was talking to a toddler. "I will not do anything that could get you hurt. Period."

Kurt's chest tightened again, panic swelling. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. Blaine always came around to his side of arguments eventually. On things that were far, far less important to him than this was.

"That's not how this works," he said, struggling to keep his voice calm, reasonable. "You don't just get to decide these things, unilaterally. This affects both of us."

"I get to decide for me. And I'm not okay with being more public."

"Well I'm not okay with hiding any more. I refuse to do it."

Kurt knew he was being dramatic, as usual, but damn it, he was _right_. Which didn't mean that Blaine was wrong, necessarily, and what were they supposed to do about that? He hated hurting Blaine, hurting _them,_ but Hummels didn't hide. He'd tried it once, for his dad, and it had been a complete disaster. Was it so wrong to want the things he wanted? If he was willing to take the risk, how could Blaine deny him?

He didn't say any of this to Blaine. He didn't have to. He could see in Blaine's eyes that he already understood all of it and it didn't change anything. For possibly the first time in his life, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Again, Blaine spoke first. "So what do we do now?" he repeated, even quieter than before.

Kurt shook his head. "I think I'd better go inside," he said, and the _we're not making out_ finality of it ran cold through his belly. "We should probably take some time to think about this."

Blaine's mouth tightened around words that he wouldn't or couldn't speak. But he opened the door and climbed out, waiting for Kurt at the edge of the driveway. He let Kurt lead the way along the walk and up the front steps, but at least he was there, silent, but there, all the way to the front door.

Kurt turned to him then, stepping deliberately close, challenging Blaine to just do it. It wasn't a big deal. What was a kiss on his front steps? It was dark, no one was even around. A perfect baby step.

"Kurt . . ."

There was both pleading and denial in Blaine's tone, but Kurt wasn't in the mood to let him off the hook. "I love you," he said. "And I don't care who knows it."

But Blaine very deliberately backed down one step and said with a firmness that Kurt wasn't used to hearing from him, "I'll see you tomorrow."

Kurt watched him turn and make his way down the rest of the steps, along the walk back to his car. Blaine didn't once look back.


	2. Chapter Two

Blaine flipped the lock on his bedroom door and collapsed onto his bed, letting all his pent-up frustration out in one long slow groan into his pillow. He would have liked to have stayed there, face-down in soft, downy oblivion forever, but eventually the need to breathe forced him over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling instead.

What the hell was he supposed to do? It hadn't been a surprise to see Kurt so adamantly serious. Blaine was used to that. There was a certain amount of _my way or the highway_ that just came with the dating Kurt territory. Blaine was well aware that Kurt had expected him to give in because he almost always did. And he was fine with that, actually, because in most cases Kurt was right and when he wasn't, well, the happiness it gave Kurt when Blaine put aside his own fears and reservations on his behalf was always worth whatever Blaine was giving up. And he secretly always felt, deep down, that he owed it to Kurt as a way of making up for how long it had taken him to figure out his feelings. How long he'd made Kurt wait and hope and suffer. Blaine would gladly do anything, risk anything, for Kurt. Except _Kurt_. That was where he drew the line.

He loved Kurt. He loved Kurt more than he'd even thought he was capable of loving. And being with Kurt had changed his life in so many ways. He owed Kurt so much, he never, ever forgot that. Not being able to give Kurt this thing that was so important to him was almost physically painful.

He sighed and rolled back over onto his stomach and reconsidered the benefits of death by goose down.

The first thought Blaine had ever had about Kurt, there on the steps of the Dalton grand staircase, was that this was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen. Beautiful was really the only way to describe Kurt Hummel. Handsome applied, and so did pretty, but neither alone went far enough. Kurt's beauty transcended both and was something completely unique to him, beyond silly external definitions of masculine or feminine. He took Blaine's breath away from that first moment.

His second thought had been that he needed to find a way to touch this boy, so he thrust out his hand – it was ridiculous, really, since when did teenagers shake hands? – but Kurt seemed to appreciate the formality of it, and Blaine had felt a little proud of himself for managing to impress him. Kurt's hand hadn't even parted with his all the way before Blaine was racking his brain to find an excuse to recapture it. That had led to Dalton shortcuts and the showiest version of Teenage Dream Blaine had ever performed, and, finally, coffee, and a chance to just stare at this beautiful creature named Kurt.

By the time their coffee cups were drained, though, Blaine had realized that Kurt was the last person he could ever date.

The need to sneeze forced Blaine's face out of his pillow once more. He grabbed a tissue, rode out his usual three short, sharp explosions (Kurt said he sneezed like a Pekingese – all delicate _choos_ and head shaking), and settled back, still clutching the tissue box.

Tonight Kurt had said they were hiding, but back then Blaine had really been in hiding. It hadn't started out that way. He'd been fourteen when he'd come out to his parents. He had all the usual struggles getting to the point where he could admit to himself that he was gay, and by the time he knew he needed to tell his mom and dad, he was okay with it. His parents loved him, they said all the right things when the topic of gay rights came up at dinner parties. They voted for the right politicians and supported the right ballot initiatives. He'd gone into it assuming that his mom would throw her arms around him, his dad would give him a more carefully masculine hug, they'd both tell him that they loved him and thank him for trusting them with such an important revelation – standard textbook "what to do when your kid tells you he's gay" responses.

And they had performed exactly as expected. They said all the right things and did all the right things. But he hadn't anticipated their eyes. Behind their words of love and acceptance he could see shock and fear and disappointment and because he was fourteen he didn't understand that a woman who had written the story of the rest of her life the day she held her newborn son in her arms might need time to mourn the loss of precious details of plot that would now never be realized. And that a man who, deep in his heart, always found the idea of the things men do with other men incomprehensible and distasteful would now have to confront his own internalized bigotry in the shape of his son, standing open-hearted waiting for acceptance. Or that two parents who loved the boy in front of them with every molecule in their bodies must now accept that the world will judge him and marginalize him and try to dismiss him without ever understanding how perfect and talented and brilliant he is.

Blaine didn't understand those things and so he took his parents' silent reactions onto himself; before he'd even had time to process them, the Sadie Hawkins dance had happened and laying on a hard gurney in the emergency room he'd come to as serious a conclusion as a fourteen-year-old boy could. He was out. He wasn't going to hide who he was, not for his parents, not for anyone. But he was going to do whatever he could to make it easier for them. He would take up residence behind the brick-walled security of Dalton Academy. He'd defy every stereotype. He'd shape himself into the most composed, polished, non-threatening (_straightest_ his brain flung at him but he locked that thought right up) gay kid in all Ohio. He'd show everyone that being gay was no different from being straight. He'd destroy everyone's preconceptions.

And it had been so easy to do. Because at Dalton he discovered he could sing. He could really sing. And with the electricity of performance sparking around him he could literally do anything. He could sing girl songs without changing the words and nobody batted an eye. He could serenade another guy in the middle of a suburban mall and as long as the song was aggressively masculine enough, and he was backed up by enough red-and-navy jacketed Warblers, most shoppers were unaware that they'd seen anything more objectionable than an exceptionally well-coordinated flash mob. People loved when he sang, no matter what he sang. There were no rules, self-imposed or otherwise. It was pure freedom.

But when he wasn't singing, Blaine's greatest goal was to blend in. To be unremarkable. He lived his life to the letter of out-and-proud, but missed the spirit entirely.

And there, facing him across the polished table in the Senior Commons, sat Kurt, Kurt who was achingly . . . well, some people might have said obvious, but the word that came to Blaine's mind that afternoon over coffee was _exposed._ Kurt had no way of hiding; he screamed who he was whether suburban Ohio was ready for him or not. The whole idea terrified Blaine and before he could ask himself why the very qualities that so frightened him had also made him burn with the desire to touch this beautiful boy, his brain had shoved those feelings into the dark closet where he put all his inconvenient thoughts and locked the door on them. What Kurt needed, it told him, was a friend. Someone to support him and stand up for him. Someone to help him navigate the dangers he couldn't avoid. By the time he was waving goodbye from the front steps of the school he had all but forgotten his first reaction to the boy who was already halfway to becoming his best friend. And he was pleased with himself. He'd made the right choice. He'd stayed safe.

And then the bird died.

It had actually been coming on for a while, Blaine could see that looking back. Kurt stopped working so hard for his attention or approval. The phone calls and texts became fewer, still there, of course, they were still friends, but Kurt wasn't relying on Blaine like he used to. The final blow was when Pavarotti's little heart stopped beating and Kurt, Kurt who used to text Blaine in a panic every time the damned bird dropped a feather . . . didn't. He didn't call Blaine, or seek him out to share his grief. Blaine found out at the same time all the other Warblers did – when Kurt burst in on a council meeting pale and tired in his Victorian mourning. And sitting there listening to the opening strains of Blackbird, wondering why Kurt hadn't come to him first, the thing that had been trying to get Blaine's attention for weeks finally got frustrated enough to just slap him across the face.

Kurt was giving up. Kurt was starting to back away. To make Blaine less necessary in his life. In one stunning moment, Blaine realized that the destination of the road they were on was a fork where Kurt went one direction and he another. And the thought of that parting sent icy fingers marauding through Blaine's gut. He couldn't, simply couldn't let Kurt go without at least acknowledging the things he'd felt in that first, magical moment on the stairs. So there, bum-bumming automatically along with the other Warblers as Kurt sang his lament, Blaine did the bravest thing he'd ever done in his life and cracked open the door to that closet of inconvenient feelings. He'd just meant to let a little light in, explore how it would feel to think of Kurt in that way, but like Pandora before him he learned that given even the tiniest crack all those inconvenient feelings will knock the door off its hinges, fly into every nook and cranny of your brain, and overwhelm you with how desperately you want to take your best friend in your arms and kiss him over and over until neither of you can breathe.

Which is pretty much exactly what he did.

Once he was in, Blaine was all in. The joy he felt being Kurt's everything was stronger than any fear he'd ever let rule his life. He was himself when he was with Kurt, finally and fully, and it was amazing and freeing and so much _more_ than he'd ever expected being in love with someone to be. It was scary, of course, being so exposed right along with Kurt, but he'd never realized how much energy his kind of hiding took, until he left it all behind to lose himself in the shifting colors of Kurt's eyes and the magic of the tiny noises – always musical, because this was Kurt – that Blaine could win by touching him just the right way in just the right places. Blaine would do or be absolutely anything for Kurt.

And leave it to Kurt to find the one, single solitary exception to that rule.

Blaine sighed again, a frustrated, angry huff, and shoved the tissue box back onto his nightstand with enough force to knock over the silver-framed picture he kept there. Panicked, he scrambled to catch it before it hit the floor and got his fingers around it just in time. Instead of putting it back though, he rolled back on the bed and smiled at the two boys captured in the image.

It was his favorite picture of them. Just looking at it made some of the panic of the evening recede and brought a ghost of a smile to his lips. He could remember every detail about the day it had been taken. They'd all been at the Hummels – Rachel was there too – a lazy summer day of television and video games that had turned into an impromptu backyard barbeque. There had been a moment, after he'd helped Finn set up the new hammock and carried dishes out to the picnic table for Carole, when Blaine had stood all alone in the shade of the elm tree just watching the family around him. It had been so fleeting at the time, just a tiny pause in the hustle and bustle that was Kurt's house on any given day. For just a moment Blaine stood apart, an observer, appreciating everything about this home that was different from his own. Not that the Anderson's never grilled on the spur of the moment, but there was always more formality at his house. And much less friendly bickering and hysterical laughter.

The bickering was coming from behind him, where Carole and Kurt were arguing over how best to set the table. Kurt had wanted to fit three jars of fresh-cut lilacs in among the plates and glasses and fancy serving dishes. Carole insisted that the world wouldn't end if they kept it to two, and while Blaine admired her courage taking on Kurt in full _the domino effect of compromise leads inevitably to things like the fall of Rome and loss of meaningful standards for thousands of years_ mode, he knew her battle was futile. Kurt always won. Because he was always right when it came to these things.

The laughing was coming from Rachel, who was lying in the hammock, squealing every time Finn gave it a push that threatened to rock her right out onto the ground. Finn had his new phone, he'd been going on and on earlier about its amazing features, and he was taking pictures of Rachel now, Blaine could see that they'd be wonderful – her smile giddier and giddier as she tried to pose through each flying swing. He didn't always understand the relationship that Finn and Rachel shared, but there was never any doubt about how much they loved each other.

Burt stood by the grill, keeping watch over steaks that had been carefully seasoned by Kurt earlier. It was funny to see the always-busy Burt relegated to babysitter until Kurt finished with the table. He'd been given strict instructions to do absolutely nothing beyond making sure no stray leaves or insects approached the steaks. Burt smiled when he caught Blaine staring, and waved the spatula he held, rolling his eyes in Kurt's direction in a way that left no doubt as to his thoughts.

Between his silent communication with Burt and the noise of Rachel squealing and his general happiness that days like this were part of his life now, Blaine didn't notice that the gentle bickering behind him had ended and he was surprised to feel an arm slip around his waist, then another join it. Kurt's slim form pressed up against his back, his arms tightened around Blaine's middle and he bent to press his cheek to Blaine's jaw, and further, tilted his head until his lips touched the thin skin of Blaine's neck.

It was so unexpected, so unlike Kurt. Kurt was the master of grand romantic gestures. Kurt planned picnics and set up dates in minute detail; that was how he showed his love. But little physical gestures, those belonged to Blaine. Blaine was the first to reach, the first to kiss, although Kurt always responded wholeheartedly. But he rarely initiated. Blaine told himself Kurt still worried about seeming to needy or clingy. He could understand that, and he certainly never minded picking up the slack where touching Kurt was concerned, but still, this simple hug was so rare and special that it pulled deep in his core and brought tears to his eyes. He pressed one hand over Kurt's around his waist and with the other reached back to hold Kurt by the back of his neck, pulling him closer and trying to keep him right here, to make this perfect little moment – just being held by Kurt – last forever.

But of course, all too soon the grill vented a monstrous sizzle and with a piercing "Dad!" too close to Blaine's ear Kurt was gone, swift as a hummingbird, buzzing off to solve the steak emergency, and Blaine's hand grasped futilely for a moment at empty air before it accepted its loss and moved to rub at his ringing ear instead.

Neither of them had noticed Finn pointing his phone in their direction.

It wasn't until Blaine got home late that night and turned on his computer that he found the e-mail from Finn with a winky face as its only subject. He opened it and as the picture slowly filled his screen he was left even more breathless than he'd been by the actual gesture.

Neither one of them was looking at the camera. Blaine's face was turned to the side, looking toward where Burt had been minding the grill. Kurt's arms were tight around him and he loved the way he looked, wrapped up in Kurt's embrace. But what knocked the breath out of Blaine, standing there watching the image unfold on his computer screen, was Kurt's face. His lips were tucked close to Blaine's ear and his eyes were closed but he looked so content, so completely at rest in a way that Kurt almost never was, and the idea that _that_ was how he made Kurt look tightened Blaine's chest and filled him with a sense of pride and love so fierce it felt like it could burn him up from the inside out.

Kurt, of course, hated the picture. "My eyes are closed Blaine. I look ridiculous. If you want a picture of me I'm happy to provide a dozen that are better than that." But Blaine didn't think Kurt looked ridiculous. He thought Kurt looked _transported_. Carried away by his love for Blaine. So although Kurt did provide those other pictures, and they did find shelf space on various surfaces in Blaine's room, that one had pride of place, right next to his bed, the first thing he looked at when he woke up in the morning and the last thing at night. And despite his protests, Blaine was sure he'd seen Kurt shoot it the occasional lingering look.

Now stretched out on his bed, Blaine held the picture like a talisman, stared at it, tried to find some reassurance in the obviously unbreakable bond the two boys in the frame shared. They could get through anything, couldn't they? They would figure this out. There had to be a solution.

The buzz of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and he carefully set the picture back on his nightstand and picked it up. He smiled at the simple text from Kurt.

_What are you doing?_

That was so like Kurt, a text, something he could control, think before he "spoke." Several answers made their way in quick succession thought Blaine's head.

_Freaking out about tonight and what it means and how we're ever going to figure this out._

_Staring at our picture and loving you so much it hurts._

_Wishing you were here to hold me and tell me you changed your mind and everything's going to be all right._

In the end he went with a simple _Lying in bed. Missing you._

_I love you, Blaine._

_I know,_ he texted back, _I love you too._

He waited for a response but eventually had to admit that there wasn't going to be one. He turned off his light and lay with his hand on his phone, until he drifted off to sleep, still in his clothes, still hoping for more.

* * *

><p>The next day was one of the strangest and most difficult seven hours of school Blaine had spent since he left Parkman High for the zero-tolerance safety of Dalton. He'd planned out what he wanted to say in the car on the way to McKinley. He even repeated his opening speech a few times out loud, which got him more than a few stares from passing drivers. But the minute he turned the corner and saw Kurt at his locker, smiling at something Mercedes was telling him, everything he'd planned went completely out of his head.<p>

When Kurt turned and caught sight of him his smile softened into the familiar _oh, there you are_ happiness that usually met any appearance by Blaine. For a blissful second relief washed through Blaine's body, but before he could even pull his lips into a return grin Kurt seemed to remember their argument; his smile faded and his eyebrows pulled together and Blaine's heart sank back to where it had been all night. The hellos they exchanged were quiet and awkward, neither seeming to know what he should say or do. It was Mercedes who finally broke the silence by dragging Kurt off to first period. Blaine took comfort in the fact that at least Kurt threw him an apologetic smile as they rounded the corner.

His resolve to give Kurt the space he'd asked for lasted all the way until lunch time, when he finally gave in and went in search of him. But Kurt wasn't in any of the usual places. He wasn't at the New Directions' designated lunch table, or hanging out in the choir room, or practicing in the auditorium. In Glee Club, Kurt reappeared and even smiled at him again, but sat between Mercedes and Rachel, leaving Blaine to take an empty chair between Finn and Puck, which was always a little bit awkward.

After school, Blaine beelined to Kurt's locker but no one was there. He waited, but as time passed and Kurt didn't show up he couldn't escape the conclusion that his boyfriend was avoiding him on purpose. That scared him more than anything they'd said in the car the night before because they always talked. They always worked things out one way or another. Even after Sebastian and that horrible night that Blaine would always be ashamed of, Kurt had come and found him and they'd said the things they needed to say, and it had all worked out in the end. And how could anything that had happened last night be worse than what Blaine had done in the parking lot at Scandals?

It wasn't. And Blaine wasn't going to let it be.

When he pulled up in front of Kurt's house the driveway was empty. Of course. He climbed out of his car and settled himself to wait on the cold stone steps leading up to Kurt's front door. He didn't care if he had to sit here all night. They were going to talk.

His heart leapt when a car turned the corner at the end of the street, but it was just Burt's battered truck that pulled into the driveway. Blaine straightened up and tried to look a little less like a dejected stray puppy sitting on the doorstep, but Burt's sharp eyes never missed a thing and Blaine could see the concern in them before he got halfway up the walk. He had no idea whether he wanted Burt to ask him what was wrong or just walk on into the house and leave him to his misery.

"Hey Blaine." Burt waited; he obviously expected Blaine to explain himself, but when Blaine remained silent he prodded, "Isn't it a little chilly to be sitting out here admiring the street?"

"I'm waiting for Kurt," Blaine explained.

"Didn't you just come from school?"

Blaine nodded. Burt waited for him to say more, but Blaine remained silent, and finally Burt climbed past him up the stairs and unlocked the front door. "Might as well come wait inside where it's warm."

"No, I'm okay, thanks," Blaine said, eyes still on the street in front of him.

Burt didn't say anything for a moment, but Blaine didn't hear him go inside either. Finally, the door closed, and Burt's work boots appeared next to him on the steps.

"Want to talk about it?" Burt ask, settling himself on the step next to Blaine.

"Talk about what?"

"Whatever you two are fighting over."

Blaine, who still wasn't used to Burt's uncanny ability to know whenever something was wrong in Kurt's life, gaped at him. "How did you –"

"Kurt wore his 'emotional turmoil' boots today."

"The green ones," Blaine nodded.

"Yep. And I'm betting he ditched you after school, or you wouldn't be sitting out here holding down my stoop hoping to catch him before he has a chance to see your car and drive on by. So you want to tell me why my son is avoiding the love of his life?"

That made Blaine smile, and the smile, combined with the genuine concern in Burt's eyes, unstoppered the feelings he'd been trying so hard to keep under control all day. "I don't even know what happened," he said, and once he started the words just tumbled out of him. "I mean, we were having a good time at Breadstix, just eating pasta and talking about football, and we could sit next to each other because of Rachel and Finn and I thought everything was fine. But then Rachel kissed Finn and some woman smiled at Kurt and now he thinks I should kiss him at school and hold his hand and we never did that stuff! I thought we agreed that it wasn't worth the risk but he says he doesn't want to hide anymore, except from me, apparently, and I just . . . I don't know what to do. I really don't think he's okay with how we've been and I would do anything for him, anything, but I can't risk him getting hurt. I can't. It would kill me if anything happened to him."

Burt didn't say anything, just watched the street as if he, too, was anticipating Kurt's arrival.

"You understand, right?" Blaine pressed. "I'm trying to protect him. You're his dad. You can appreciate that, can't you?"

Burt turned away from the street and gave Blaine a long thoughtful stare. It made Blaine feel uncomfortably like a bug under a magnifying glass, like Burt was taking his measure in some way. He must have decided he liked what he saw, though, because he gave a little nod and said, "All right, look. I know you love Kurt, and I'm not trying to minimize that, but I've got to tell you, there is nothing like the love a parent has for their kid."

"So you get it?" Blaine asked, relieved.

But apparently it wasn't going to be that easy. "You don't think it drove me nuts watching him leave the house every morning in one of those crazy outfits?" Burt asked. "The way he got treated – every damn day he'd come up those stairs and you think I didn't want to drag him right back down and make him put on some normal clothes? Just to give himself half a chance in that place? I used to dream about sneaking into his bedroom one day and burning it all. Down to the last little mini bow tie."

"I love his bow ties," Blaine protested.

"Well, you would. The point is, I never did that. I could have. I could have forced him to change. God knows he didn't do himself any favors dressing like that. But I never did. Do you know why?"

"Because that would be like asking him to change who he is."

"That's right. And to Kurt, the only thing worse than having people who hate him trying to change him is having people who love him doing the same thing."

"But this is different," Blaine insisted. "I'm not asking him to change. I just want to be safe. Not for me – I know he's right about how important it is to show people that there's nothing wrong with us. If it was just me . . . but I couldn't take it if anything happened to him. I just – if somebody hurt him – I can't even think about it."

"And you know I appreciate that," Burt smiled, bumping their shoulders together, but then he pinned Blaine with another of those piercing stares. "Look, Kurt had a really rough time before he met you. I don't know if he's ever told you how rough."

"I was actually there for prom," Blaine reminded him.

"I know that. But sometimes all the little things that pile up, they can be a lot worse than any one big event like that. Honestly, there were times when I couldn't figure out how he found the strength to get out of bed in the morning, and put on those crazy clothes and walk into that place, day after day. But he always did. And no matter what they did to him, he never budged one inch because of it. The only time he tried to be something he wasn't, he was protecting me. It was hell, Blaine. He went through hell. But he never once gave in."

Blaine shifted a little on the cold stone step. He wanted to protest that he knew what hell was - he'd been bullied and ridiculed and sent to the hospital for heaven's sake – but Burt was still looking at him so seriously, like there was some bigger point he was trying to make Blaine understand, man to man, that Blaine held his tongue and waited for Burt to continue.

"And then he met you," Burt chuckled a little, "and he's going to kill me for telling you this but he fell so hard for you. Like, one of those epic romance movies hard. Moulin Rouge hard."

Blaine had to laugh a little too, that Burt's scale of epic romance was measured by Kurt's favorite movies.

"But you didn't," Burt went on, still looking at Blaine like there was some crucial point he was waiting for Blaine to get. "He pined for you like I have never seen anybody pine. He was head over heels for you but whatever you were looking for, it wasn't him."

"Yeah, but I –"

"Don't get defensive," Burt held up a hand to stop Blaine's explanation. "You got your head on straight eventually, and we're all happy you did. But my point is that Kurt could have gone and tied himself up in knots trying to be whatever it was you _did_ want, but he didn't. He wouldn't change to get bullies to leave him alone and he wouldn't change to get your attention."

"I don't really see what this has to do with last night, though."

"He won," Burt said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What?"

"He won. Kurt stayed Kurt. He didn't change for them or for you. And he won."

Blaine must have still looked confused because Burt bumped his shoulder again. "I'm talking about you, dummy. He won you. To hear Kurt tell it half the world's in love with you, but he's got you. He stuck to his guns and came away with the big prize. So now he wants to show it off a little bit. He wants the world to know that you picked him. Maybe push it in the faces of all the jerks who tried to tell him what a freak he was. And the only thing that's standing in the way of him doing that is you."

"Because I don't want him to get hurt!" Blaine protested.

"Which I am very grateful for. But did you hear anything I just said? You asking him to compromise in order to protect him, to Kurt, that's no different than those jerks at school trying to make him compromise because they didn't like what he stood for. Kurt's his own person. He gets to take his own risks. I had to figure that out a long time ago and now it's your turn. If it's really you that you're worried about – well that's a different issue that you two have to work out. But if you're telling him that he needs to compromise to protect himself, trust me, that's a brick wall you don't want to be banging your head into. Better men than you have ended up with killer migraines from trying to tell Kurt who he should be. And by better men, I mean me." Burt grinned at Blaine and pushed himself up from the step. "It is way too late in the year to be sitting out like this. Come on inside and get warm. Kurt has to come home eventually."

Blaine accepted Burt's hand pulling him upright. But he didn't follow Burt to the door. "I think I'm just going to go, actually," he said.

"You don't want to wait for Kurt?"

He shook his head. "You've given me a lot to think about," he said, and it felt like the understatement of the century, "so I'm going to go do that."

"Good idea," Burt said with a little smile.

Blaine heard the door close behind him as he made his way back to his car. His head was buzzing with all the things Burt had said. While he pulled the car door open he looked back at the house and found Burt peering back at him through the front window. Blaine gave him a little wave and Burt nodded back, then let the curtain fall.

Burt may have said that he was the prize, but personally, Blaine thought Kurt won his prize long before he and Blaine ever met.


	3. Chapter Three

"You haven't talked to him yet?!"

"A little louder, Rachel," Kurt hissed, "there are some kids out by the bleachers who may not have heard you."

Rachel slammed her locker door shut and glared at him. "You can't do that, Kurt. Blaine uprooted his whole life for you!"

"I'm aware of what –"

"He changed schools. He left all his friends behind and you know that scared him. You can't just have this big fight and not talk about it."

"It wasn't a fight –"

"How can you leave him hanging out to dry like some old rag? It's Blaine. He's sensitive. It's probably killing him that you guys fought in the first place and now you won't talk to him –"

"Okay, stop!" Kurt grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "Just take a breath and let me talk, would you?"

Although she kept her glare firmly in place, Rachel nodded.

Kurt slipped her arm through his and led the way toward the choir room. "It wasn't a fight," he insisted quietly. "It was a disagreement. A very serious disagreement over a fundamental aspect of our relationship. There's really no right or wrong so there's nothing for us to talk about. Unless somebody decides to cave, and that isn't looking very likely at the moment. Don't you think it's better if we give each other some space instead of risking saying something one of us will regret?"

Rachel pulled him to a stop just shy of the choir room door. Her bitch face was gone, replaced by a look of such sincere concern that it made Kurt's stomach twist. He felt safer with the bitch face.

"I don't care what the problem is," she said. "Are you seriously telling me that after everything the two of you have been through you can't find some way to compromise? You guys are soul mates. I can't believe you could be so mad at him that you won't even try."

"I'm not mad," Kurt insisted. "It's not like that. This just isn't the kind of problem you can compromise on. We have a fundamental difference of . . ."

He stopped talking when Rachel's gaze focused on something behind him and her eyes went wide in warning. Spinning around, he found Blaine just a few feet away, heading in their direction, as buttoned and bow-tied and dapper as ever. The urge to just forget everything and fling himself into Blaine's arms was even more intense than usual. It had been almost three whole days since they'd touched each other in any way, and maybe Blaine wouldn't mind. Kurt had hugged him like that the day Blaine transferred, after all, and Blaine had seemed okay with it. More than okay. But something about Blaine's expression stopped him and he settled for a breathless "Hi," as soon as Blaine was close enough to hear him.

"Hi." Blaine's greeting was just as tremulous, which only made the urge to hug him stronger.

"I'm just going to –" Rachel began edging away from them toward the choir room door.

"No, Rachel, stay. I wanted to talk to both of you." Blaine said. Rachel scooted back to Kurt's side. Kurt stayed still and quiet, except for his fingers tapping out his nerves against the fabric of his slacks.

"So you know that coffee place on Beckford that does open mic on Thursdays?" Blaine began.

"Giovanni's? I love that place! Finn takes me there because they have vegan pastries that are just –"

Kurt dug his elbow into Rachel's side. She gave him another glare, but at least she stopped talking.

Blaine's gaze bounced around the hallway. Rachel's interruption seemed to have derailed his entire train of thought.

"Giovanni's?" Kurt prompted him.

"Right." His eyes settled back on Kurt again and he looked as serious and earnest as Kurt had ever seen him. "Well I signed myself up. I've got three songs tomorrow night at eight."

"Blaine, that's amazing!" Kurt couldn't help grinning. He'd been trying to get Blaine to do something like this for a while. He knew how much he missed being in the spotlight now that he'd left the Warblers.

"I was hoping you guys would come."

"Are you kidding?!" Rachel said. "We'll bring the whole Glee club! Everyone will want to –"

"No!" Blaine interrupted, a little too forcefully. "They can all come to the next one. This time I just want you." He was technically answering Rachel, but his eyes never left Kurt's. "Will you come?"

"Of course I will. As long as my dad says it's okay – school night and all."

"He will. I mean, I'm pretty sure he will." For the first time Blaine smiled, and the thing that had been clenched around Kurt's heart for the past three days began to loosen its grip just a little. "Great. Thank you.

"You don't have to thank me, of course I'm going to come listen to you sing." Kurt smiled back and even though nothing had actually been solved, he felt lighter than he had in days. They all walked into the choir room together, and when Kurt and Rachel settled into front-row seats, Blaine barely hesitated before taking the empty chair on Kurt's other side.

* * *

><p>The coffee house was pretty crowded for a Thursday night, Kurt thought, as he and Rachel made their way to an empty table a few rows back from the makeshift stage. He still couldn't understand why Blaine didn't want the rest of the glee club there for his big debut, but he had to admit it made him feel very special being the only one asked. Well, technically, Blaine had asked Rachel too, but Kurt knew that was only because Blaine knew he wouldn't feel comfortable coming alone.<p>

There was no sign of Blaine in the noisy room; Kurt assumed that was because he was going to be the first performer. But shortly after a harried young waitress took their orders a pretty blonde woman with a guitar appeared behind the standing mic, settled herself on a tall stool, and began to play songs that she announced she'd written herself. She wasn't half bad, Kurt thought, but most of the patrons seemed to be more focused on their drinks and companions than they were on the singer. The waitress didn't even bother to lower her voice when she dropped their lattes on their table with a bright, "Here ya go, dolls," and sailed off across the room.

"I'm starting to think this might not have been the best idea," Kurt whispered to Rachel.

"What do you mean?"

"Blaine's used to everyone paying attention when he sings. This doesn't really seem like that kind of crowd."

The blonde sang three songs, and after each of them Kurt clapped as hard as he could, sympathy alone prompting him to try to make up for the lackluster reaction from the crowd. But the singer seemed happy enough with the response and was smiling as she vacated the stage. Almost before she was gone, Blaine appeared, with no fanfare whatsoever, and began moving things around on the stage. He put the standing mic to the side and roled the keyboard and bench right down center.

His appearance alone was enough to catch the attention of some of the crowd. Kurt hadn't even realized he was nervous until he saw Blaine up there, looking so young with his slicked back hair and his tight red polo. He didn't have a bow tie tonight, but aside from that he seemed to have dressed specifically for Kurt, in the tight jeans that he knew Kurt loved and a pair of crazy zebra-striped saddle shoes that managed to work perfectly with the overall look.

It wasn't until Blaine was settled at the keyboard and looked up to search the crowd that Kurt realized Blaine was nervous too. That made Kurt's heart hammer even harder in his throat. Blaine was never nervous. He was the consummate performer. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Rachel's hand. Then Blaine's eyes found him in the audience and relief lit up his face and Kurt couldn't help smiling back. That seemed to be the encouragement Blaine needed; he leaned into the mic and spoke softly but confidently.

"Hi everybody. I'm Blaine. Um, this is my first time here so, you know, don't be too hard on me."

A few people laughed at that, which drew the attention of others, so that by the time Blaine's fingers settled on the keyboard the room was actually starting to quiet down a little. Then the first chords of "Walking in Memphis" filled the space and people began to murmur again. Kurt could see raised eyebrows and shaking heads; it seemed like half the crowd thought it was brave for a teenager like Blaine to attempt such a soulful song, and the other half found it ridiculous.

By the second verse they were all listening. Blaine's voice and his presence and his undeniable love for the music he was making cast the same spell they always did and by the time he got to the jungle room the whole place was with him. People standing against the walls were bouncing along to the music and there were even a few enthusiastic whoops. Blaine was a dervish on the piano stool; his fingers flew over the keys and his voice hit every note perfectly, gravelly when it needed to be and soft when soft was called for. By the time the last chords echoed from the keyboard, he had the full attention of everyone in the room.

Blaine didn't speak between the first song and the second. He didn't even look up when the crowd exploded in applause. He just played through it, bringing the loud, ringing chords down to quiet improvising that finally, as the noise from the crowd died down again, resolved into the opening notes of George Harrison's "I Live For You."

And God, it was beautiful. It was so sweet and earnest and no one was talking now, everyone was watching Blaine work his magic on stage. Blaine, Kurt's boyfriend, up on stage singing about eternal love, holding the attention of an entire room because he was so perfect and talented and honest and _real._

"Oh my God, I'm such an idiot," Kurt breathed.

"What?" Rachel whispered close to his ear.

"I'm such a jerk," he said, not taking his eyes off of Blaine singing his heart out on stage. "Look at him. Look at what he is. And he loves _me._"

Rachel's hand tightened in his. "Of course he does."

Sitting there, watching Blaine sing, Kurt felt so ashamed of himself and he squirmed a little in his chair because that was a feeling he was not accustomed to. But he'd been so wrapped up in the hows and the whens that he'd lost sight of the miracle that was Blaine; Blaine's love for him; their love for each other. Yes, he still wanted to change the world, he still wanted to change Lima, but not at the expense of their happiness. As Blaine's song came to a close, he almost leapt from his chair, eager to get to Blaine and tell him how sorry he was, and that everything was going to be okay, but Rachel's hand, still holding tight, reminded him that Blaine had one more song to go. He leaned back, happier than he'd been all week, enjoying the anticipation of the moment when he could tell Blaine that they were okay.

This time Blaine stopped playing and sat looking out at the audience, waiting for the applause to die away. He fiddled with the keyboard's microphone and Kurt could see his hands shaking even from where they sat three tables back.

Rachel noticed the trembling too. "Why is he so nervous?" she whispered. "Everybody loves him."

Before Kurt could hazard a guess, Blaine leaned into the mic and spoke.

"So, I have one more song," he said, and his voice was shaking as much as his hands had been. "And I'm going to be really self-indulgent so I hope you'll all forgive me, but I need to dedicate this one to someone – someone really important to me." Blaine's eyes found Kurt in the audience, for the first time since he'd started singing, and Kurt's heart leapt into his throat and he clutched Rachel's hand so tightly that she whimpered. But she didn't try to pull away.

"When we first met," Blaine continued, his face unnaturally pale under the stage lights, "I told him to have courage, which was pretty stupid because he's always been the bravest person I know. He's helped me do things I never thought I could do and be things I never even imagined." Blaine's voice got stronger as he spoke, and his eyes never left Kurt's, and nervous as he was, Kurt could see iron determination in him as well. "He rescued me from the tower I'd locked myself up in and helped me understand who I really am. He makes me want to be better. Better for him, but better for myself too."

He paused, and he glanced around the room, looking almost surprised to find himself still on stage in front of dozens of people. But he came right back to Kurt and managed a slightly shaky smile. "So this is for you Kurt. I love you. And I want everyone to know it."

Kurt wasn't breathing. He couldn't move at all as Blaine sat down at the piano and began to play the gentle notes of a song Kurt didn't know. He'd been nervous speaking, but of course when he sang his voice was pure and strong as ever.

_I think that I just might stay_

_Just for a life, just for a day_

_Women are complicated that way . . ._

"Oh my God, he's as bad as you are with the girl songs," Rachel muttered.

A strangled "shh" was all Kurt could manage because his throat was blocked and his eyes were full of tears.

_. . . We lay on our backs beneath the trees_

_The wind is blowing songs in minor keys_

_Before I can even say the words_

_Your arms around my neck, I am of this world . . ._

There were people looking at him, Kurt knew, he could feel their eyes on him but there wasn't a force in the universe that could have made him look away from Blaine singing him a love song in front of a roomful of strangers.

_. . . I want to stay forever_

_In your grace, in your charm_

_All wrapped up and never_

_Leave this place in your arms_

_Where I belong . . ._

"Oh God, this is really happening." Kurt finally managed to force the words through the tightness in his throat. "Does anyone look like they're about to riot?"

"The coast is clear so far," Rachel whispered back.

Kurt was shaking now, not from fear, but from the intensity, the magnitude of this thing Blaine was doing for him. The notes coming from the keyboard were clear and sweet and Blaine's voice so soft, loving the lyrics, loving him.

_. . . You deserve much more than me_

_I'm a Charlie Brown Christmas tree_

_You fix me up for everyone to see . . ._

Kurt finally managed to tear his eyes away from Blaine, he had to, just for a moment, just to see for himself that what Rachel said was true. And although those eyes he'd felt on him were real – there were more than a few people craning to get a look at him through the crowd – most of the audience was just watching Blaine making magic on the stage. He looked back just in time to catch Blaine lifting his gaze from the keys to sing the final chorus directly to him.

_. . . I want to stay forever_

_In your grace, in your charm_

_All wrapped up and never_

_Leave this place in your arms_

_Where I belong . . ._

As the last notes of the song rang clear in the silent room, Kurt's tears finally spilled over. The room blurred and Kurt was so focused on Blaine that the applauding crowd faded into the background. Blaine started, like he'd forgotten anyone but Kurt was there. He stood up and sketched a bow then jumped off the little stage and made his way directly for Kurt, who finally let go of Rachel's hand and almost ran to meet him.

The came together halfway between stage and table, Kurt still trying to see through tears. Blaine's eyes blazed with love and fear and unshakeable determination.

"That was so incredible," Kurt began, but Blaine interrupted him with a sharp shake of his head.

"I'm not done yet." He reached for the back of Kurt's head and stretched up to press their lips together.

It was hard and swift – more collision than kiss – and Kurt was sure he heard at least a couple of whistles lift above the applause that hadn't quite died down yet. When Blaine pulled away he looked not quite there, dazed, and even in the dim light Kurt could see that he was too pale.

"Breathe, Blaine," Kurt ordered, trying to sound firm and in charge and keep Blaine from passing out, even though he was still crying and laughing just a little hysterically himself.

Blaine obeyed, gasping in loud, shuddering breaths that were barely more reassuring to Kurt than his lack of breathing had been. "I can't believe I did that," he panted.

"I think we'd better sit down," Kurt said, and he took Blaine's hand and steered him back toward their table.

"Where's Rachel?" Blaine asked, lowering himself unsteadily into a seat.

"Apparently she's being uncharacteristically tactful and giving us some privacy."

They were silent for a moment; Blaine's eyes moved in wide, almost comical arcs, like he was trying to somehow look at the entire room without actually moving his head. "People are staring at us, aren't they?" he asked.

"Honey, you just sang me a love song and kissed me in the middle of a coffee house. People are going to stare. But I sense no immediate danger."

And he wasn't even lying. Not all the looks they were getting were completely friendly, but the majority were more curious than hostile and nothing was setting off any alarm bells. Even as he looked, most of the patrons turned their attention back to the stage, where the next performer was setting up his guitar.

"Hey doll, can I get you something?" The harried waitress appeared beside Blaine, startling him. He stared up at her, confused, as if she'd spoken in a foreign language.

"Drink?" she repeated "Coffee? Tea?"

Blaine looked at Kurt, still a little shell-shocked. "Coffee?" he asked, as if only Kurt knew the answer.

Kurt smiled up at the waitress. "Better make it decaf."

"Coming up. Hey kid," the waitress poked at Blaine's shoulder to get his attention. "You were really good. One of the best I've seen in here. Ten bucks says Gio asks you to come back next week."

That seemed to be what Blaine needed to hear. "Thank you," he said, in a voice that, for the first time since he'd come down from the stage, actually sounded like Blaine.

The waitress wandered away and Blaine looked at Kurt, really seemed to see him for the first time since he'd finished singing. "Did you really like it?"

"Oh my God, Blaine, who wouldn't like it? You declared your love to a roomful of strangers. It was pretty epic. But why didn't you want everyone to come? You were so good, and they would have loved it."

Blaine shook his head. "I didn't want you to think I was trying to be safe, you know? Like when I sang with the Warblers. I didn't want to fill the room with our friends so we'd have a lot of back up. I wanted you to know that I really meant it."

"I definitely got that message."

The waitress reappeared and set a mug of hot coffee in front of Blaine. He managed to add cream and sugar without once letting go of Kurt's hand.

Rachel made her way back to the table eventually, full of effusions about Blaine's romantic expertise, but they only stayed long enough to finish their coffees. As they drank and talked Blaine's shock started to ebb and by the time they were ready to leave, he was buzzing with frenetic energy, high on his success. No one bothered them, and they even got a few smiles as they wove through the crowd toward the door, Kurt and Blaine hand in hand. The owner did indeed call out from behind the counter that Blaine was welcome back any time, and Blaine smiled and nodded but whispered to Kurt that he thought it would probably be a while before he'd be ready for anything more stressful than glee practice.

There were only a few people coming and going in the parking lot and Rachel hugged them both then climbed into her car. She started the engine but didn't pull away, and Kurt appreciated her gesture, staying to make sure they were safe, but he didn't feel like he needed it at all. Standing by his car with Blaine's hand in his he felt invulnerable. Maybe that was naive, but the kind of love Blaine had shown him in the coffee house – what could possible ever hurt him when he was loved like that?

Still bouncing with excited energy, Blaine pressed Kurt back against the Navigator and kissed him for real this time, not _too_ deeply, of course, they hadn't lost all caution, but softly, with lingering gentleness, and when their lips parted they stayed close, smiling into each other's eyes.

"I like this public thing," Blaine said happily.

"You don't have to, you know."

"What do you mean?"

Kurt pulled back just enough to lean his head against the car door. "I realized tonight that I was wrong, Blaine. I shouldn't have pushed you into anything you weren't ready for. This was the most amazing thing anyone's ever done for me, but if you're still worried, I get it. We can wait. I mean, I'm holding you to that Jumbotron thing, but I can –"

Blaine cut him off with another quick kiss. "You weren't wrong. I wasn't listening to you. I mean, I was listening, but I wasn't really hearing what you were saying. I was trying to make decisions for you, and I can't do that. I can only make decisions for me. And I'm good with this. More than good." His grin was almost a leer and he pulled Kurt's lips to his for a third time, the kiss heating up more than the others had. But when Blaine's tongue teased the edge of Kurt's bottom lip, Kurt pulled back again.

"Don't stop," Blaine protested.

"Dear God, I've created a monster," Kurt laughed. "I think we've pushed our luck far enough for tonight, don't you?"

Blaine pouted a little but said, "I suppose."

"Besides, I promised my dad I'd be home by ten and if I'm late he might ground me and then who will you have to kiss all over Lima this weekend?"

"You make a very good point." Blaine stretched to give Kurt one last peck. "See you in school tomorrow?"

"Of course."

Kurt watched as Blaine walked backward to his own car, flashing Kurt a goofy, triumphant smile the entire way.

"Hey!" Blaine yelled, just as Kurt turned to climb into the car.

"What?" Kurt called back, over his shoulder.

"I love you!" Blaine was still grinning like a madman

"Yeah, I noticed!" Kurt laughed and they both finally settled behind their respective steering wheels and pulled in a line out of the parking lot, Rachel bringing up the rear, still making sure all was well.

* * *

><p>Kurt didn't see Blaine in the McKinley parking lot the next morning. And he didn't find him at his locker. But he did find Mercedes, waiting for him with barely contained curiosity.<p>

"Okay, you need to tell me everything," she said, before he even had the door open. "I got about a hundred completely incoherent texts from Rachel last night so I gather something went down with you and Blaine but honestly, I can barely understand what she says in person, never mind through a phone. What happened last night?"

Kurt slid his bag into his locker and closed the door. "Last night was –" but as he turned back to Mercedes he saw Blaine behind her, giving him that special smile that was for him alone, the one that promised _things_, and he completely forgot what he was going to say.

"Hey you," Blaine said.

"Hey yourself," Kurt smiled back.

Mercedes looked back and forth between the two of them. "Somebody just please tell me what happened!"

"What happened when?" Blaine asked innocently.

"Mercedes was just asking me about last night."

Blaine's eyes twinkled. "And what did you tell her?"

"I was just about to tell her that it was the most romantic moment of my entire life."

Blaine gave him _that_ smile again, and slipped his hand into Kurt's, fingers intertwined.

"Until this one," Kurt amended breathlessly, letting Blaine pull him away from his locker and down the hall to first period.

"I always miss the good stuff," Kurt heard Mercedes lament as he and Blaine turned the corner hand in hand.


End file.
